Weather Complaints
by Jfreak
Summary: Holmes is in a bad mood. Watson tries to help. It doesn't exactly go as planned...


**Hey all! :) I'm back, yay!**

**So anywho, hope you all like this fic. I personally believe that I've improved since my last two stories, but I guess you'll have to be the judge of that :D**

**Sherlock Holmes and friends are public domain, but the brilliance behind them belongs to ACD.**

When presented with a problem, my friend Sherlock Holmes' reaction was usually one of joy. Today, however, he seemed hardly interested. Whether the problem seemed too trivial, or there was something else on his mind, I could not tell. What I could see was that he was simply not putting any effort into the case. Being significantly surprised by this, I enquired as to what was troubling him. Instead of brushing off this personal question as was typical for him, he sighed and dropped the papers he had been supposedly going through onto his desk.

"It's this confounded weather Watson! If it does not stop raining soon, London will no longer be a city but a lake!" _So that was the reason for his dark mood. _

"But Holmes," I replied, "If you're so depressed by the weather, why not take a short trip out to the country until this rain clears? I am sure your mother would be pleased if you went for a visit."

Holmes visibly shuddered. I could not say I blamed him. Not that Mrs. Holmes was, in any way, an unpleasant person. She simply tended to dote on her two sons more than any grandmother would spoil her grandchildren any time they chose to make an appearance which, in Holmes' case, was not very often. He loved his mother certainly, but there was only so much fussing and cosseting he could handle.

"I'm sorry Watson, but one trip to my mother's estate is more than enough for one year."

I chuckled at his harried expression and returned my attention to the book I had been reading.

After watching him attempt to concentrate on the pile of papers and scraps that littered his desk (and also a four foot radius of the floor around it) I finally gave up trying to finish my story and stood up, pulling on my coat.

"Come Holmes! We're going out. I won't have you sitting in here moping for the rest of the day."

"I do not mope." He frowned at me, crossing his arms.

"Yes you do."

He stood up, growling and muttering to himself as he grudgingly put his coat on, and we headed downstairs and out the door into the very wet and grey afternoon.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSH

"Was this supposed to cheer me up, Watson?"

I glanced at his face, out of the corner of my eye, and frowned at his sour expression.

"Because it isn't working,"

We had been walking for about an hour now and, despite our thick coats, were completely soaked through to the skin.

"Do stop complaining Holmes." I admonished. He had been more than disagreeable since the beginning of our walk when a cab had drove past us at a rather alarming speed and splashed muddy water all over the left side of his trousers.

"This is a sight better than sitting inside, listening to your ceaseless moaning over the weather, and then getting smoked out of the house with your tobacco fumes anyway."

He shoved his hands farther into his pockets and glared at the ground in front of us.

"That is entirely a matter of opinion."

I clamped my mouth shut to stop yet another sigh from escaping as I stepped around a rather large puddle that had formed in the middle of the path.

He was about to make another remark when his umbrella's fabric, which had been starting to sag from the immense amount of water that had been beating down upon it for the past hour (I had told him more than once that he needed a new one), suddenly tore open, dumping all of it's water onto Holmes.

I could not stop myself from laughing at his appearance. His dark hair was plastered onto his forehead, while water dripped from his nose and eyelashes. The rest of his apparel, which had already been soaked completely, combined with his expression, gave him rather a close resemblance to what a half drowned cat might look like.

He attempted to glare at me in my mirth, but soon joined in my amusement at the ridiculousness of the situation. We turned around to head back to Baker Street and, after assuring Mrs. Hudson that we would not die of hypothermia, made our way up to our rooms to rid ourselves of our very wet garments. We returned to the sitting room in dry clothing and Holmes put another log into the grate (Mrs. Hudson was kind enough to light a fire for us) before dropping, with perhaps slightly less of his usual grace, into his worn armchair and pulling his dressing-gown tighter around his thin frame. "Well Watson, I cannot say that this day has not been interesting."

I grinned at him and was about to answer when he continued, "And now I know to keep my complaints about the weather to myself."

"Why is that?" I asked him, confused.

"Because, my dear Watson, if I do not... Something like this may very well happen again."

We both laughed at that statement.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Now for anyone who happens to be interested, Holmes did happen to get a slight cold from that water incident, but he managed not to complain too much about it. And true to his word, if he ever took issue with the weather again, he kept those feelings to himself.

**As always, please leave a review :) reviews are what keep me writing!**


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